San Diego Secrets
by BruisedSmile
Summary: The morning after the night before. Takes place during "Laryngitis"


**San Diego Secrets**

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Some things in life are inevitable. The rising sun of dawn is only one of them, but it was more than enough to contend with for now.

The persistent light filtered through the clumsily drawn curtains in golden shafts, softly illuminating the small hotel room, almost identical to his and yet not quite, eagerly announcing the start of another day. A sunlight that was too bright, too hot and harsh, somehow loud and invasive with a false cheer that urged you to get up and get out enjoying it.

Morning didn't seem to ever come quietly here. It crashed through the window and practically stood on your chest, demanding acknowledgment and gratitude for its rude awakening.

Jesse winced and did some creative cursing under his breath. Each ray felt like a burning needle striking through his head; cutting through the intoxicated fog that still lingered from the night before, dragging him unwillingly to his senses, before finally settling into a pounding ache behind his temples. Rubbing a hand down his face, he pulled himself to sit up before letting his head fall back against the headboard and pressing his eyes shut. Clarity of thought was not something he felt in a mood to appreciate right now.

Yet the memories still came, pushing through his cloudy recollection in a series of broken images and sensations: the banter of old friends and the welcome escape of an easy bravado; teasing whispers and boisterous laughter; demanding hands and parted lips, tugging and pulling in the darkness; hot skin and muffled sighs; a drowning fire that surged through his body, fuelled by a confused and resentful anger that he refused to acknowledge.

A desire to forget, a raging impulse to feel in control once more, that found solace in the knowing touch of a familiar embrace. It seemed that old habits were easy to repeat; all too tempting to slip back into. The reckless plunge into selfish pleasure was nothing he hadn't experienced before, but the nagging twinge at the back of his mind was.

Hurt eyes and a soulful voice. A burning gaze on his back, urging him to turn around. Jesse frowned and wrenched his eyes open in a bid to banish the unwanted memory.

She'd crossed that line first: carelessly betrayed the illusion he had so carefully built up; lied and manipulated in a misguided effort to reach her own ends. A reversal of roles in their relationship that was bitterly ironic. It was an insult he couldn't easily brush off; a kick to his pride that stung far deeper than a mere professional snub. She'd used him, even if it was just for one stupid video, and the taste of his own medicine burned sour in the pit of his stomach.

Jesse clenched a hand in his tangled hair, ignoring the growing headache that throbbed sharply behind his eyes. He had to remember who he was, where he rightfully belonged. What this little escapade was_ really_ all about. And for once, it wasn't about him.

With a sudden jolt, he realised that he'd almost let himself forget that. Somehow he'd become a little too complacent; too absorbed in his chosen role; caught up in the deceptively convincing play they were living. He'd missed a step, and the stumble had brought him firmly back down to earth. Lowering his hand, he took a deep breath as he calmly laid out his objectives in a straight line again. He had to focus on his task, what he'd been sent there to achieve in the first place. There was a deadline to keep to after all.

He had to finish it before Regionals.

There was a soft groan from beside him as the probing daylight dragged another victim from exhausted sleep. The sheets shifted as Chloe turned over and threw her arm across her eyes with a disgruntled frown. Jesse stiffened, a subtle mask falling over his features, but otherwise didn't move.

With a yawn, she finally dropped her arm and turned her head, bleary eyes blinking open to take in the boy who shared her bed. She was slightly surprised to find he was already awake; he'd drunk just as much as the rest of them last night, if not more. She smiled to herself. Apparently not even a vicious hangover could get one over on him. Typical.

"Morning," she mumbled sleepily, stretching out her sore muscles that still ached slightly from the rigorous exertion they had been put through. His eyes flickered to her in silent acknowledgment, watching as she shifted to sit up beside him.

Chloe reached out to let her fingers wander lazily down the strong line of his arm as she nestled closer. "That was quite a performance last night. Even for you." She smirked and leaned in next to his ear, a knowing tease in her voice. "Working out some frustration were we?"

A thin smile crossed his lips in response but he didn't turn to look at her, nor did he react to her playful touch. Pulling back slightly, she tilted her head an inch and took in his poise. His back was straight and stiff against the headboard, arm resting lightly across his drawn up knee, his dark hair mussed into a gorgeous disarray from the previous night, but there was a tension in his body that was cool and distant, his eyes avoiding the intimacy of hers.

She sighed and sank back against the pillows with a familiar sense of resignation. The message was clear to read: whatever it was that last night had been about, the moment had passed. The gates were firmly back up, the guard that so usually surrounded him raised once more; and she knew that despite his presence in her bed, even though their bodies were close enough to touch, that side of him was now just as closed off to her as his thoughts.

Jesse was like that. He came in intensive bursts: when he sang, when he performed and was in his element, he had no equal. But she'd quickly learned that there was a casual disregard there; an aloofness that came from arrogance and superiority. She didn't resent him for it; it was just who he was and they all knew it. And it was what made him so good at what he did.

He was always the leader, always controlled. He never faltered in his confidence or talent; never let anyone see him slip; always cleverly subtle yet equally ruthless when he needed to be, and he never took his eyes off the goal. It was something that demanded admiration. It was no mean feat after all: to balance their strange mixture of friendship and professional rivalry with the ease that he did; to somehow keep the volatile dynamic of their team working in tandem instead of ripping itself apart. It was why they followed him; why they trusted him with their success. And why no-one would ever truly get past those elusive walls.

A familiar tune broke into the quiet, pulling Chloe from her thoughts with a sigh. Turning over again, she shuffled to the edge of the mattress and fumbled for her cell phone which had been knocked to the floor beside the bed. Finally retrieving it, she fell onto her back again and squinted as she read through the message.

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" she grumbled under her breath.

"What is it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sam's lost her room card. Again. Like I'm supposed to miraculously know where it is or something?"

A smirk passed over Jesse's face. "It'll be at the bottom of the pool."

Chloe turned her head and found his gaze with a look of amused incredulity. "Wait, so Daniel really did throw them in? I wasn't sure if I imagined that or not."

"Yeah. Think there was a bet going between him and Aaron."

She scoffed. "God, those two are pathetic. I swear they've only gotten worse since you left. Everything's turned into a pissing contest."

"Nice to know I've been missed."

"I'm serious. You_ better_ be back by Regionals or things will be unbearable. The fight for solos is going to get ugly. It's bad enough at the moment: no-one can concentrate amongst all the speculation and switching allegiances. It's a power vacuum."

"Things really that bad?"

She could swear there was a hint of satisfaction in his tone. She shrugged. "It's just a little messy. What did you expect? You did kind of leave us in the lurch," she added, a note of reproach in her voice.

A frown touched his face before he glanced away. Chloe propped herself up on her elbow, eyes curious as they studied his expression, but it was unreadable.

"What's this little stint at McKinley about anyway?"

A shadow tightened the line of his mouth and for a moment his gaze was somewhere else entirely, before he quickly shook it off with a casual shrug.

"Just doing some recon for Shelby."

Chloe made a face, derision filling her voice. "As if we need it. I mean come on, they beat a bunch of delinquents and deaf kids. Hardly makes them valid competition. And don't even get me started on their _dancing_. Hope you're not picking up any bad habits."

A silent laugh curved his lips. "Hardly. It's actually bordering on amusing at this point. Anyway, it'll be finished soon enough." He caught her eyes with a smug grin. "Then we can show them how it's done properly."

"Looking forward to it," she smiled, a glint of eager anticipation crossing her face. With relief, she felt the little ebbs of doubt start to recede in the solid confirmation of his words: he was still coming back to them; they would still have Regionals in the bag. He was still _theirs_. Her voice softened as she held his gaze. "Just hurry up, okay? Things haven't been the same without you."

"So it seems. Sounds like I'm missing all the fun."

She laughed at that. "More like you miss the adoration and the rush of power over mere mortals. You just miss walking down the halls of Carmel and being the centre of attention, being the unattainable fantasy of every giggling school girl and lording it over the rest of us."

Jesse only gave an enigmatic smile, choosing not to pass comment on the accuracy of her observations. Chloe shook her head. "I don't know why you gave it up in the first place. No-one else could get away with this you know. You're lucky we need you."

"I'm touched, really. How's the set list coming anyway?"

"Hard to say," she sighed. "Shelby keeps chopping and changing; it's getting beyond gruelling. Still, I think she's settled on something from _Queen_ at least."

He nodded in approval. "That could have potential."

Couldn't beat the classics. Vocal Adrenaline and Queen sounded like a pretty epic partnership; he was actually surprised they hadn't focused on it before. No-one would stand a chance against that kind of powerhouse performance. Two champions of music; it was perfect for them really.

Chloe watched the familiar analysis and determination working away behind his eyes, already picking through the idea and calculating ways to use it to maximum effect. It was a look she had witnessed many times, and it always brought them to victory. Jesse never went into anything half-hearted; he enjoyed winning too much.

A sly smile pulled her lips. "It's a big mantle to take up. Really think you'll be up to it in time?"

He gave her an amused look. "You really think you could pull it off without me?"

She rolled her eyes but they were interrupted as her phone beeped again insistently. With an irritated groan, she snatched it up from the covers.

Jesse smirked. "Are you just going to leave her wandering in the corridors?"

With a huff she turned her attention back to the phone, thumbs moving quickly across the buttons. "Well, she'll just have to ring down and request another one. Or she could just go back to bed. I'm sure Reece wouldn't mind."

Jesse raised an eyebrow.

"Don't ask. Ethan is still pretty pissed about the whole thing."

There was quiet for a moment as he merely watched her type. Finally, he shifted and turned away, reluctantly pushing himself off the pillows to sit on the edge of the bed. He felt her glance up but she didn't question him. He instantly put a hand to his head with a grimace as the throbbing headache came surging back with a vengeance. Standing up was going to be fun.

Retrieving the clothes they had so carelessly discarded a few hours ago, he dressed quickly in the mutual silence. He could feel her eyes on his back as he closed the button on his jeans but he didn't turn around, instead reaching out for his shirt, unconcerned. She could look if she wanted to.

It wasn't as if either of them was shy. Easy physicality had been a part of their relationship, on and off, for a long time; it just didn't hold the same kind of weight for them as it did for many others. And it certainly wasn't an exclusive arrangement. They both knew where things stood: an appreciation and agreement that went unspoken. It was what it was.

"I should get back to my room. Grab a shower."

She nodded as he eventually turned back to face her. She had rolled onto her side, curled up under the sheets and face half-buried in the pillows. He suspected she was eager to get back to sleep. It sounded like a tempting idea, but Jesse knew there was no way his mind would give him that kind of peace any time soon.

"You're still coming to the beach later, right?" she mumbled curiously.

"Yeah, of course."

"Good."

She gave him a sleepy smile before it turned into a yawn. Taking that as his cue, he moved to pick up his jacket from the floor and let himself out as quietly as he could.

As the door clicked shut behind him and faced with the empty stretch of hallway just beyond, Jesse hesitated before letting himself slump back against the wall for a moment. His eyes slipped shut, chest rising and falling in a deep sigh that seemed to reach all the way down to his bones.

With some effort, he held back the clamouring thoughts that threatened to siege up and over the defences of his private guard. _Not now_. To distract himself, he pulled up his jacket and fumbled through the pockets until he felt the familiar weight of his cell phone fall into his palm.

There were the usual nonsense texts, sent in a haze of drunken humour and then instantly forgotten. Jesse barely glanced at each one before lazily deleting them off. Then there were a few playful messages from the more observant of his friends; some curious as to where he'd got to, others knowing full well. His fingers slipped into autopilot as they skimmed down the list, before a single, glaring name stopped them cold.

He narrowed his eyes, stubbornly fighting the racing surge of his pulse. It was the last person he wanted to hear from right now. The reason he was currently on the other side of the country, nursing his ego and trying to get his head back together. An edge of irritation snapped through his mind. She just couldn't help herself, could she? Persistently naïve to the bitter end.

He indulged in the idea of simply erasing it without even a cursory look, but something instantly rebelled inside him – overpowering the vindictive impulse. He sighed mentally, giving in to the inevitable. He had invested too heavily in this to walk away now; too much was riding on his performance. Besides, Jesse would just never quit an act half-way through; it was a matter of professional pride. And frankly, Shelby could choose to make his life very difficult if he willingly let her down on this personal mission. He debated for a split second, his eyes pouring over her name one last time, before he calmly pulled the text up on the screen. He didn't have to respond to her after all.

_Hey. How's San Diego? I know you're not talking to me, which is actually kind of okay since I can't speak just now anyway. They're saying it's just a throat infection, but it may as well be the plague – I feel like a vocal cripple. None of them understand. What's the point if I can't sing anymore? I can't be without my voice, Jesse. I can't not be able to sing. It's the only thing about me that people like. What about Regionals? What about my career, my whole future? _

_It's been awful. I can't join in Glee or even do my assignment without sounding like a croaky frog on helium. I don't know what to do. Dad says my voice should be back to normal once the infection clears up, but what if it isn't? I feel like I've lost the most important part of who I am. What makes me special. They've given me some antibiotics to help but they're just making me feel sick and the doctors want to take my tonsils out completely, but I really don't want to take the risk of surgery. _

_Things are just so messed up at the moment. And I know you said you needed space, and I'm sorry, and I don't expect a response or anything, but I-I just wanted to hear your voice – and this was the next best thing. Jesse, I just…I wish you were here. _

He frowned as he reached the end of the typically rambling message; a rawness stinging in his throat that had nothing to do with the after effects of drink. The whisper of her voice sent a shiver down his spine; the soft admission plunging through his heart, all but breaking his resolve then and there. It was unnerving to feel what the faintest echo of her presence could evoke; a physical pull that reached somewhere deeper than his defences could protect him. He couldn't explain it and he didn't even want to try: it would only lead to a foreign and dangerous territory; one that he had no wish to explore.

His gaze swept over the text again, a reluctant wave of empathy washing against the banks of his residual anger. His thumb moved to the '_reply_' button instinctively, words forming unbidden in his mind, before he caught himself. He quickly closed his phone, removing the temptation. With a soft thud, he let his head drop back against the wall, a curse of frustration on his lips.

The thought of Rachel being sick, and so far out of his touch, raged like a quiet storm at the back of his mind, demanding action he wasn't prepared to take. Losing her voice was her biggest fear, and he knew that the uncertainty would be tearing her apart. Rachel hated feeling helpless. So of course she was acting like it was the end of the world; reaching out desperately for threads of comfort and reassurance.

But she would get better. After all, he'd had pretty much the same experience when he was fifteen and he'd thrown a hell of a similar tantrum, but in the end it all proved unnecessary. Tonsillitis was a pain but it wasn't incurable.

A part of him longed to tell her so; to be that source of strength and solace that she was looking for. But his pride just wouldn't let him. The image of Finn's face replacing his for the final act of her little project; the look in her eyes when Hudson had confronted her – a look that was too much like the one she'd given _him_ in that school corridor. Her gaze earnest and words tumbling over each other in a bid to make him understand, asking for forgiveness in that round about way that was so typical of them.

'_I should have been enough for you, Rachel.'_

He didn't know quite where that bitter pain had come from; why his breath had burned in his chest as he watched something break in her eyes; why he'd inwardly flinched as they traded their dramatic accusations of broken hearts.

This wasn't meant to get so personal. The betrayal wasn't meant to be real. Her face was never supposed to linger in his mind; her voice wasn't meant to haunt his memory. Jesse forced himself to breathe out slowly, resisting the urge to bang his head against the wall behind him. He couldn't afford to let this performance get to him; he couldn't let this character get a grip on his heart. Acting. It was only acting.

Jesse knew he was good; knew how to work his considerable talent to optimum effect. Give him the chance and he could fool anyone in the world.

Except, maybe, himself.

A humourless smile crossed his lips. He'd come all the way out here to clear his head, to remind himself of his true priorities that had somehow become blurred in a tide of hurt, anger and confusion. But it turned out that Rachel Berry wasn't a girl one could easily forget.

Things had somehow become a whole lot more complicated, but the show must go on. Granted, in the heat of the moment, his first impulse had been to sever the connection completely. Jesse rarely gave second chances, and never when someone had stung him as badly as she had. But he didn't have that luxury in this case.

He was going to have to up his game when he got back to Ohio. He had to pull their relationship back onto his terms; he had to start nudging Rachel in Shelby's direction. Jesse had the distinct feeling he was getting in dangerously deep with this particular charade. The sooner it was over, the better.

There was a murmur of voices as a door opened just down the hallway, making him jerk upright and snapping him from his thoughts. The hotel was waking up. Pushing away from the wall, he shoved his phone back into his pocket, suppressing a grimace as Rachel's innocent words echoed through his memory.

Suddenly, he couldn't get in that shower quick enough.

**~o~**

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**AN: **So, this idea was inspired from the throw away reference in the opening chapter of my St. Berry story, and it just kinda grew! I wanted to show a bit more of Jesse's perspective and also explore that side of his life with Vocal Adrenaline, which has always been intriguing to speculate on. This can be read in conjunction with _'Caught In Your Bad Romance'_, as a sort of prologue or sister story, but it can equally stand as a seperate one shot.

Reviews keep the muse employed :) Let me know what you think? Thanks for reading.


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